


Swords and Plowshares

by Oceanbourne



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Gen, just pals, no ships here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 07:38:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13899405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanbourne/pseuds/Oceanbourne
Summary: Ephraim gritted his teeth. She wasn’t one to mince words. “Are you saying every one of my successes was a fluke?”“I’m saying you’re trying too hard.”





	Swords and Plowshares

**Author's Note:**

> This was basically just a study of how two characters that aren't connected in the least would react. I basically imagine that Ayra sees a bit of Lex in Ephraim, since he's impulsive and reckless while fighting. I try to balance that with Ephraim's desires that he believes his attitude will help him achieve, so it doesn't look /that/ brazen. But yeah, this is just.... out there. It's totally self-indulgent because I love both of these characters.

She stood in the shade of a palm in one corner of the grounds like a lioness who chased away all challengers to her turf.

The more summoned heroes that arrived in Askr, the larger the training grounds became. What started as a flat field of ryegrass and fescue soon expanded into a rolling plain of all sorts of climates, from sandy beaches to wooded forests. It was a costly renovation; the commander wasn’t too pleased.

But it had enticed the heroes, who soon used the facilities for more than just training. Knights from Elibe would bring benches and converse with each other in the meadows, princesses from Hoshido and Nohr would lay down quilts and have picnics in the shade of conifers, and Ephraim would even see one of his fellow Magvellians dip their toes in the water for a minute or two. It felt like one of the courtyards back home. And it must’ve carried the same sense of familiarity for the other heroes.

With all the changes, it was difficult to see the grounds as a place meant for training. But dozens of heroes still committed to their discipline, even with plenty of the area set aside for more recreational activities. Farther out on the fields, you could hear the dedication of one’s sword or lance as it swept through the air, or towards a sparring partner.

This particular palm tree, on the other side of two sand dunes, was her place. She’d chosen it on the second day she arrived in Askr, and her fellow heroes were more than happy to give her space.

Ephraim approached in the middle of one of her downswings. She turned around on him as his foot touched the sand. “Prince Ephraim.” She stood at attention, although he could see the way she held her sword meant that she always itching to swing it.

“Lady Ayra.” Neither of them liked the titles, but omitting felt like an injustice. So Ephraim had decided on a habit of honoring her title the first time they spoke that day, and switching to just her name for each subsequent use. Ayra quickly caught on.

“I’m guessing the assault on the castle after our first division retreated went smoothly.” To call those kinds of numbers a division was a gross exaggeration. He was confident that between him and Ike, they could take on every enemy. Yet before they breached the gate, a flash of raven hair had appeared in front of him, a raised hand warning against any further advance.

“We routed them. It was a swift, and more importantly, an assured success.” Ayra paced along the sand, her bare feet barely disturbing its surface.

“We could handle ourselves,” Ephraim protested.

Ayra affixed him with a piercing look in lieu of a response. She did a quarter-turn, flipping her blade around in her hand. It was her way of mulling over a matter.

"I’ve never met a more reckless man,” Ayra said.

Ephraim stepped forward. Compared to Ayra, he sank into the sand, his boots half-submerged. Was it really that deep?

“I know the risks.” He wasn’t going to stray from his conviction. “I’ve been in situations ten times more dangerous, and I’ve prevailed every time.”

“Doesn’t mean your decision’s the correct one,” Ayra countered.

“If I wasn’t trusted for my ability to prevail out there,” Ephraim prodded, “then how come I was one of the first called to this mission?”

Ayra stared at him for a couple of seconds before heading towards the palm and resting her blade against it. She leaned back, her arms crossed. “For a commander and a future king, you really have no grasp of tactics.”

Ephraim gritted his teeth. She wasn’t one to mince words. “Are you saying every one of my successes was a fluke?”

“I’m saying you’re trying too hard.”

Ephraim opened his mouth to object, but he felt like Ayra had more to say. So he kept silent, meeting her gaze.

“You try to handle everything,” she explained. “The head of the vanguard. The first to breach the walls. The charge from the flank.”

“I’ve been told to lead with example,” Ephraim answered. “No one wants to see their leader in the back when they’re risking their necks for them. I would rather be there, fighting alongside my men.”

“I don’t shirk from battle, either,” Ayra said. Her hand dropped, instinctively drumming her fingers against the pommel of her sword. “I don’t back down when it’s my time to fight. But I also know when it isn’t time to cross blades.”

“So now you think I’m trying to take on too much.” Ephraim knit his brows, moving a few paces to the side. He didn’t like the sand’s sinking feeling.

“I know you are.” Ayra exhaled, her shoulders rising an inch. “What are you trying to prove? You’ll be a better king than anyone else?”

He could feel his lip twitch. Ayra liked to call it how it was, but she hadn’t aimed a criticism towards his station or duty until now. Surely he didn’t expect to flaunt some kind of noble superiority over the royalty of the other realms. But there was still a moving force in him - the drive to surpass his limits.

“That’s not it,” Ephraim started. “It’s not about being better than others. It’s about being better than myself. To strive for something greater.”

Ayra arched an eyebrow. “And what will you do when you hit that ‘greater?’”

Ephraim paused. Now it felt like his mind was stuck in that sand. “I suppose… I’ll just keep going.”

She gave a low chuckle, which quickly faded in the air. “You may be the most reckless man I know, but you’re a lot like a knight I knew back in my world. The same brazen streak. Charged into fights just like you like to do.”

Ephraim felt a shadow of a smirk form on his lips. “Sounds like someone I’d respect.”

“I hated him,” Ayra interjected. Ephraim blinked, wondering if he had missed something in her speech.

For a bit. At the time, he was my enemy. So we didn’t see eye-to-eye for a long time. But… as I got to know him, I saw that he had a good heart and that he truly cared for those he was close to.” Ayra hummed thoughtfully. “He just didn’t express it in the best ways.”

“I… see,” Ephraim said, feeling the silence press in on him. “Part of the reason why I fought, took up weapons at an early age, is because of the people I love too.”

“Princess Eirika,” Ayra provided. “I’ve spoken with her a few times. Always holds you in the highest regard. You’re not nearly as bad as I make you out to be, Ephraim.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he replied, feeling his shoulders begin to relax.

“That’s why you shouldn’t overdo it.” Ayra paused and considered. “Among other things. Sometimes tough situations are best left for other people to handle. We are all on the same side, after all.”

“Maybe you’re right, Ayra,” Ephraim mused, “but you’ll be hard-pressed to get me to let up on fighting.”

Ayra picked up her sword, letting the light flash on its side as she spun it in her hand. “Of course. I know your type. There’s a little of it in me, too.”

She moved to walk past him, reaching out a hand to clasp his forearm. They met eyes, and Ayra nodded before letting go and continuing on.

“And let someone else have some fun next time.”


End file.
